An Oath, A Promise
by readerofasaph
Summary: Ogiwara has every intention of quitting basketball, but it's not so easy when you're attending the same school as Akashi Seijuurou. (Fic/AU in which Ogiwara attends Rakuzan)


**An Oath, a Promise**

He attended the school entrance ceremony with neither interest nor enjoyment. For weeks his parents had been telling him what a great school Rakuzan High was: top-class academics, state-of-the-art sports facilities, the most famous high school basketball team in the country. Neither his father nor his mother had truly believed him when he announced his intention to quit basketball.

Ogiwara Shigehiro didn't have the energy to correct them.

He didn't feel as if he had the strength to do anything at all.

He entered the auditorium and sat down with the rest of the incoming class, all of them crisp and neat in blazers and ties. Some of the freshmen looked nervous, a few of them looked eager, nearly all of them looked hopeful.

Ogiwara wished he could feel like that.

He wasn't sure which extra-curricular he was going to join this year. Baseball, maybe, or the track team. The Going Home Club didn't sound too bad right now.

Ogiwara was only half-listening as the welcoming address was given. When the vice-principal announced the top student of the incoming freshmen, he didn't catch the name that was uttered at all.

It wasn't until their year representative had made his way up the steps, walked serenely and elegantly to the lectern, and taken his place at the microphone, that Ogiwara recognized those eyes with equal parts shock and dismay.

The captain of the Generation of Miracles.

#

He wasn't given a chance to make plans to ignore Akashi Seijuurou's existence. After the welcome ceremonies they went to their classrooms, where Ogiwara discovered that he was destined to sit three rows behind the former Teikou captain for the rest of the school year.

Ogiwara watched Akashi as their classmates did self-introductions one by one. Akashi was proper and polite, paying attention throughout it all.

When it came to Ogiwara's turn, Akashi gave a small nod of recognition, acknowledging that they'd met before, but showing no interest beyond that.

Even though Akashi's response wasn't surprising at all, Ogiwara felt the internal sting of it anyway, and he was reminded of what it had been like playing against Teikou: cold and meaningless.

As if he was nothing, as if he wasn't even worthy of being shunned. The Generation of Miracles hadn't cared about their opponents for even the slightest second. They hadn't cared about their teammates either.

In a strange way Ogiwara had found them almost pitiable, but their eyes had been so cold and emotionaless that he couldn't even pity them.

They were incomparable geniuses, but they'd lost the most basic things about playing basketball. Playing basketball should have made them feel happy. Facing opponents should have made them feel happy.

But basketball didn't make Ogiwara happy anymore. He despised the Generation of Miracles, but he'd become just like them.

#

He didn't have any reason to talk to Akashi, and Akashi didn't have any reasons to speak to him either, so in fact there was no need to ignore the other boy. They didn't even exchange words until three weeks into the term, when both of them were assigned to clean-up duty together.

It was strange seeing Akashi wiping the blackboard down with a damp cloth, just like any other student. Akashi normally had such a rich boy about him. At first the two of them worked in silence. Ogiwara emptied the wastepaper baskets and began straightening the desks, starting from the back row.

Akashi finished cleaning the board and began arranging the desks from the front. Eventually they met in the middle.

"Thank you for your help," said Akashi, as they pushed the last wooden chair into place.

"Thank you for yours," answered Ogiwara, glancing down at Akashi. "Looks like we're done."

"We are." Akashi inclined his head. "I'll be going to practice, then."

"Of course." Ogiwara picked up his schoolbag from the corner where it was lying.

"You decided to leave basketball," Akashi said.

Ogiwara paused, the strap of his schoolbag half-slung across one shoulder.

"Yes," he answered finally. "I'll be going home now, unless there's anything else you wanted to say."

"Only one thing." For a long anticipatory moment Akashi paused speaking, forcing Ogiwara to look straight at him, before continuing his words: "That from what I've seen of the degree of your conviction it's no wonder that you had no capacity for victory."

When Ogiwara opened his mouth to speak he realised that he had been clenching his jaw; his body was taut with hopelessness. "Did you just want to tell me that again? That you don't see me as a worthy opponent?"

"You made Tetsuya a promise," Akashi's eyes were cold as ever, but in them was another emotion – dislike, maybe. "And then you chose to break it."

Footsteps rang out in the corridor outside, and grew louder. A moment later one of their classmates peered in through the doorway.

"Akashi-kun, Ogiwara-kun, you're still here?"

"I was just leaving," said Akashi, sweeping past Ogiwara. "I will see you around, Ogiwara-kun."

#

For the next few days at school Ogiwara worried about whether Akashi would try to talk to him again, but as it turned out they barely saw each other. Ogiwara was left with Akashi's words, hard and implacable.

_You chose to break your promise to Tetsuya._

He had given Kuroko his wristband – or rather, he'd given it to Mochida, who'd emailed him at the end of winter to say that the token had been passed on.

_There is warmth in his eyes_, Mochida had messaged. _Is there any warmth in yours?_

Ogiwara still didn't have an answer to that. In the end, he hadn't taken up baseball. He hadn't joined the track team.

He went down to the street courts once or twice, tried to practice shooting and dribbling alone, but street ball reminded him of Kuroko, and Kuroko reminded him of everything else. So he stopped doing that.

His school grades did improve, now that he didn't have much else to do besides study. But he didn't make many friends at Rakuzan. Come to think of it, all his best friends had always been the people who played basketball with him.

Spring became summer, and his days passed in a slow dull haze.

#

Ogiwara couldn't have said what made him go down to the sports centre one morning in June, except that maybe he'd been thinking about it for a while now. After all, this was the basketball club that his parents had hoped he would join – that he'd wanted desperately to join, once- And he was visiting very early in the morning, barely after dawn, and he didn't expect any of the players to be there yet.

As he'd expected, club practice hadn't started yet, and the sports centre was empty and quiet. There was a stray ball sitting at the periphery of the court. Ogiwara went over to picked it up, stared at its lines, at the rough orange surface.

He began to dribble the ball, felt the familiar pressure beneath his fingers as he bounced it steadily. Drove to the basket.

He leaped, dunked. A rush of elation went through him as he landed on the floor, then moved to retrieve the ball, which had spun away after falling through the rim.

It eventually rolled to a stop near a bench and it was then that Ogiwara realised that Akashi was sitting right there, writing something on a clipboard. Had he been here all along?

"Ogiwara-kun," said Akashi. "Why are you visiting?"

Ogiwara stared at him, still feeling the sudden sense of euphoria, of being _alive_, after touching a basketball for the first time in so long. But he still remembered that he didn't like Akashi very much.

"I came to speak to the captain or the coach," he liked. "Thay're not here, so I'll leave."

"I'm the captain of the basketball club," Akashi said. "What do you have to say?"

Come to think of it, Ogiwara had heard something of the sort from the girls in class who sighed starry-eyed at Akashi constantly. Student council president and zaibatsu heir and captain of the Generation of Miracles. It was no wonder Akashi didn't think that ordinary basketball players was worth his time.

Unable to come up with an excuse, he stalled. Akashi stared at him for a long while, then said. "Very well. You can I'll bring you the sign-up form later, when we're in class."

"I didn't say I wanted to join the basketball club," Ogiwara protested.

"Is that so? I thought your eyes said differently, but your words remain ambivalent." Akashi continued to sit on the bench calmly, while Ogiwara stared down at him. "If you're going to waver about your decision, however, I would prefer that you didn't join. I don't have time to lead a player who isn't fully committed to victory."

Akashi's eyes were as cold as ever. But they were not dead, and now that Ogiwara thought about it, they had never looked dead. Not before that fated match, nor while the match was being played.

"Why are you even interested in having me join?" he asked. "You made it clear that you didn't think much of my abilities."

"I'm interested in ensuring the success of this club," replied Akashi. "You're not worthy of being an enemy but that doesn't mean that you're not worthy of being a pawn."

Ogiwara stared mutely at him.

Akashi sighed. "I suppose your skills merit your being classed as a knight or a lance. Barely."

What a backhanded compliment. Despite the situation, Ogiwara felt like he'd been acknowledged. A little. Still, he had to ask:

"A wooden piece on a shougi board. Is that all I am?" He stubbornly held Akashi's gaze. "Is that all Kuroko was?"

Fleetingly there was a dangerous flicker in Akashi's face. "My connection with Tetsuya has nothing to do with your friendship with him, nor does it have anything to do with my invitation for you to join our club." Akashi stood up. "I think you have had enough time to make a decision," he said. "What will your answer be?"

"I'll enter the club," Ogiwara said, not really understanding why he was agreeing, only that it was the first time in months he'd felt alive. "I'll keep my promise."

"Practice starts in fifteen minutes." Akashi stood up and headed towards the locker rooms. "By the way, Shigehiro, given your lack of training these last nine months, you will certainly not earn a regular's jersey in time the Interhigh. And if you wish to play in the Winter Cup I suggest that you work hard at regaining your former level of fitness."

The Winter Cup. Ogiwara wondered briefly if Kuroko would be there, and knew, with a sense of calm, that he absolutely would.

Ogiwara had always found it easier to believe in Kuroko than to believe in himself.

But Ogiwara wanted Kuroko to believe in him too. And for that, Ogiwara would have to act as if there was still warmth in his own heart.

He didn't know whether playing basketball at Rakuzan could bring that warmth back again. But it was less painful than not playing basketball.

And it was less painful than breaking a promise.


End file.
